Strangers
by Aussie73
Summary: Sam thinks about what might have been.  Set after S10.  Sam and Jack AU.
1. Chapter 1

_**Categories: Drama, UST, AU**_

_**Spoilers/References: '200' (S10), 'The Return' (SGA, S3), 'Heroes' (S7), **_

_**Notes: Set sometime shortly between the end of S10 and S4 of Atlantis. Haven't seen S10 yet (we haven't got S9 in Oz yet!), so this is based on spoilers. Hence the decision to make this an AU! Written for the WOTW challenge on the SJFics Yahoo Group – Precipitation.**_

* * *

Much like when she was a little girl, Sam Carter pressed her nose up against the window, watching the rain as it fell steadily downward. 

Music played quietly in the background, providing a nice counterpoint to both the rain and the touch of blues Sam was suffering.

Her melancholy gaze fell on the jacket of her dress blues and a brief smile warmed her features. Full bird and command of the Atlantis expedition – _How d'you like __them__ apples, Dad?_, she mused, wishing that Jacob Carter had been there to witness General O'Neill pin the shiny birds onto her lapels and salute her as 'Colonel Carter'.

General O'Neill.

After more than two years out of the same chain of command, they were still General and Colonel. He'd become increasingly distant during his last year at the SGC and had pretty much dropped out of sight since. Except for the brief visit he'd paid during the celebrations for Cam's 200th trip during the gate – a stupid excuse for a party, but … – this was the first time she'd seen him since he'd left the SGC.

He'd looked good, she'd noted. A little thinner, thanks to his experience with the Lantean Replicators, and more silver had crept into his hair, but he was still the same hale and hearty Jack O'Neill.

Sam closed her eyes, reveling in the broad smile the newly-promoted Lieutenant General had given her when pinning her rank insignia. She didn't think she'd ever seen him look so proud. "You done good, Carter," he murmured before returning his attention to the assembled ranks.

"God, Sam, does the term flogging a dead horse mean anything to you?" she murmured. Too many years of painful longing, punctuated by distance and attempts by both to move on.

Poor Pete. She'd heard from him recently when he'd called to let her know he was getting married. He was happy, he'd told her, and wished her the same.

So … was she happy?

She wasn't unhappy, she decided. The stalemate between the General and she had gone on for so long that it had become part of her. Much of the time, she wasn't even aware of it – like the pulse of her veins – but occasionally that pulse would throb and remind her.

A knock on the door brought her out of her solitary pity party – much to her relief – and she got up as the door opened and her team-mates walked in.

Check that. Former team-mates.

Daniel, quite possibly her best friend since Janet had gone.

Teal'c, staunch warrior, gentle giant and proud grandfather.

Cameron, her co-commander on SG-1. Sometimes he annoyed her, sometimes she wanted to smack him upside the head, but he'd thankfully lost the 'gee-whiz' greenhorn thing that had punctuated that first tumultuous year.

And Vala.

The mysterious alien con-woman had surprisingly become a good effective member of the team, her slanted view on life often causing Sam to stop and consider other possibilities. And was becoming a good friend.

"Hey, there, Colonel," Cam drawled with a sloppy salute. "May we humble peons take you to McGinty's and get you thoroughly bombed, wasted, chicken-fried and trashed?"

Sam smiled. "Sure," she said, waving her hand in a vaguely royal fashion. "It'll be good for me to mingle with the hoi polloi. Just give me five to get changed."

She headed into her bedroom and wriggled out of her skirt and blouse before pulling on her favorite black jeans and a cheery red sweater. She yanked a brush through her growing hair and pulled it back into a runty ponytail then dashed some gloss over her lips before rejoining her friends.

"Let's go!" she said brightly.

As they stepped out into the rain, Sam reflected that she was actually pretty happy. She had good friends, a great career, wasn't short of potential suitors.

Why couldn't she accept that? What was it about that cranky sarcastic pain-in-the-ass General that had her thinking that something was missing from her life?

She shoved Jack O'Neill's smirking visage into the corner of her mind where it usually lived when Vala tucked a hand through her arm. "Wake up, darling," the woman said. "You've spaced out on us."

Funny how quickly Vala had adapted to the American vernacular when Teal'c still struggled.

But, then again, he had spent much of his life under the shadow of the Goa'uld, speaking only the words they wished to hear. Whereas Vala had spent god knows how many years kicking, kissing and crying her way into and out of every scheme going.

Sam shook herself mentally. "Sorry," she said. "Just thinking about … what might have been."

Vala nodded and Sam wondered if the other woman was thinking about Adria. Then Vala joggled her arm. "You can't mope today, Colonel! You've three very handsome men here to dance attendance on you, and …"

Daniel clapped a hand over Vala's mouth then dropped it with a disgusted exclamation. Sam giggled, surmising that Vala had licked his hand.

"Sorry, darling," Vala said, slipping her hand down to Daniel's butt and squeezing it.

Daniel didn't even blink – a year ago he would've raised holy hell, but he'd softened greatly toward the brunette recently.

Teal'c stepped into the road, holding out a beefy arm to halt the approaching cab.

They all piled into the cab, Teal'c's stony stare cutting off the driver's complaints about the lack of room. The $50 that Cam palmed him helped too.

Even with Teal'c sitting up front, it was still a squeeze – one that Vala solved by plopping into Daniel's lap and stretching out her legs over Cam and Sam.

"Comfortable?" Daniel asked dryly.

"Immensely, handsome!" Vala purred, leaning over to murmur something into Cam's ear – the import of which Sam didn't catch, but that made Cam laugh.

_Get a room, guys_, she mused, unsure whether she was referring to Vala and Daniel or Vala and Cam.

At McGinty's, they got out and went into the bar, heading for their regular booth. To find someone already sitting there.

Someone with silver hair, brown eyes and a smirk. "Sir!"

"Hey, Carter," the General replied, the fondness in his voice belying the use of her surname. They'd been 'Sir' and 'Carter' for so long, the names had almost become terms of endearment. "Heard you kids were planning to come here and thought I'd tag along, if you don't mind."

"Of course not," Sam murmured politely, settling down next to him. Close, but not too close – that was how they were.

The waitress came along and gave them a plate of nachos while they perused the menu, but Sam barely picked at them. She was far too aware of the General sitting next to her chatting easily with Daniel and Teal'c, teasing Cam and flirting with Vala.

Flirting with Vala?

Sam watched the two and realized suddenly just how much she missed her own early flirtations with the General – back then, the Colonel.

When had they become strangers?

General O'Neill's thigh pressed against hers as he leaned over her to grab some nachos, and she gulped, feeling her body temperature rise significantly.

"Yo, Carter! You still with us?" the man himself asked, breaking her out of her reverie.

"Oh! Yes, sir," Sam replied with a blush. "Sorry. I was wool-gathering."

She tried not to mind when Vala put her hand on the General's thigh as she leaned over to grab the jug of beer. And she tried not to mind when the brunette's hand lingered as she flirted with all four men.

Vala was just being Vala. There was no malice in her – flirting was something that came as naturally to her as breathing did to anyone else.

Sam sipped glumly at her beer, feeling like the odd man out as her friends and former comrades chatted, laughed and enjoyed each other's company.

Amidst Vala and Cam's noisy discussion of the previous night's NBA game, General O'Neill tilted his handsome head toward Sam. "You okay, Sam?" he murmured.

Sam was startled by his use of her first name – how many years had it been? "I don't know, sir," she replied honestly. "Everything's changing, and I'm not sure I like it."

"You having doubts?" A small smile appeared on the General's face. "You deserve this command, Carter. You've got the technical know-how to shut up McKay, the military authority to keep Sheppard in line, and the diplomacy skills … well, you learned those from yours truly."

Sam laughed at that. Laughed so hard she nearly got beer through her nose. "That wouldn't have taken long, sir," she pointed out cruelly.

The General just smiled at that and then dabbed at her face with a napkin. "Touché."

And Sam felt something inside of her unclench. "It really is good to see you again, sir."

"Back atcha." The General looked uncomfortable and wriggled. "I didn't mean to be such a stranger, it's just …"

"I could've called, emailed, something too," Sam pointed out, more than prepared to take her share of the blame.

"Yeah." The General sighed then held out his hand. "Jack O'Neill."

"Sam Carter." She shook it.

"Friends?" he asked, squeezing her fingers gently.

"Always."

The rain fell down outside but Sam didn't mind at all.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Categories: AU, UST, Drama.**_

_**Notes: Set several months later. In response to this week's challenge word on the SJFic Yahoo Group – "POSSIBILITIES".**_

* * *

Sam's stomach ached and she clutched it, hoping to ease the pain. "No … more!" she gasped.

The man responsible for her pain looked at her, his brown eyes widening comically. "But there's so much more I could tell ya, Carter!" he teased. "What about the one with the priest, the rabbi and the …?"

"Stop," she begged, punching him in the shoulder. Punching a Lieutenant General was a court-martial offense but he had it coming.

Besides, they were in her quarters on Atlantis – who was there to report her?

"Ow, Carter!" said Lieutenant General whined, clutching his shoulder in affected agony. "Remember the brittle bones of the elderly, will ya?"

Sam just rolled her eyes and gave him a grin. In all the years of comradeship, wanting and longing, she'd never realized just how good of a friend Jack could be when the barriers came down. True; they didn't have a lot in common, but it seemed that their differences complemented rather than repelled each other.

She heard the sound of the waves crashing as she and Jack fell silent, and was startled to realize that she'd now been in command of Atlantis for just over four months. It had certainly been an … interesting experience, and she sometimes felt like Elizabeth Weir had left some very large shoes to fill, but Jack had given her some great advice just before she'd taken command:

"Don't try to be her," he'd said. "You're not her. You have your own style, your own unique brilliance. Remember that, and you'll do fine. You didn't try to be me when you took over SG-1, and you were great then."

She smiled now. The Atlantis personnel were beginning to warm up to her, realizing that she respected deeply everything that her predecessor had achieved, and she was beginning to get quite friendly with some of the other leaders in the expedition. Most notably John Sheppard and Teyla Emmagan, an Athosian. John had been hard to get a handle on at first. He seemed easy-going, a little rough around the edges and reminded her of Jack in some ways – right down to the perpetually messed-up hair. But there was an aloof quality to him that she couldn't explain. Then she'd overheard him dictate a message to Doctor Weir and understood.

It was sad that they'd never been able to get together and now that they were galaxies apart, Sam didn't see how it could happen.

At least Jack was able to come visit. His status as Head of Homeworld Security entitled him to these offworld jaunts.

"Hey, Sam! Anyone home?" the man asked her, waving a hand in front of her face.

"Yeah … just thinking," Sam replied. Her stomach rumbled and she got up, extending a hand to pull Jack up too. "I'm starving – want some lunch?"

Jack's eyes lit up. "I can always do lunch," he said, grinning at her in an incongruously boyish manner. How could this 55-year-old General be so child-like without marring his gravitas in any way? Sam didn't get it, and simply chalked it up to one more mystery about the man she loved.

Yeah. She loved him. And maybe it was time she told him so.

"Jack?" She stopped him as the door was about to open without her even stepping near to it. His ATA gene needed a leash.

"Yeah."

"I've … uh … I …". She stuttered to a halt. "Never mind; it's stupid."

"Sam; you could never be stupid," Jack told her. "What's up?"

Sam lifted her head to look at his dear face – more lined, more worn, than when she'd first met him, but still handsome – and saw only warmth in his dark eyes. "I … I love you," she blurted out, twisting her fingers together and looking away.

Silence.

And now Sam just wanted to crawl into a hole and pull it in after her. What had she been expecting? This wasn't a romance novel or a movie; it was real life. Did she seriously think that after years of dancing around he'd sweep her up into his arms and never let her go? Even if his back and knees had been able to take it?

"Uh … what?" His hands flapped uselessly.

"You heard me," Sam replied tiredly. "It doesn't matter, though. I shouldn't have said anything."

"Uh … love. You … love me."

Jack O'Neill at his monosyllabic best. At any other time, it would've made her smile. "Yes. I believe I just said that," she responded snippily.

All of a sudden, she wasn't hungry anymore. She wanted him gone, wanted to get back to work. She didn't want to be Sam-in-love, she wanted to be kickass-Colonel-Carter. "I … think you should leave," she told him.

"Why?"

"What?"

Jack's hands flapped again before being stuffed into his pockets. "Sam; look at you! You're a gorgeous woman in the prime of life – you could have any guy you wanted!"

"Apparently not," Sam murmured, wondering whether it was himself or her he was doubting. She knew that his cockiness hid a large streak of insecurity – ever since the gray had started to appear back in their second year as a team, he'd called himself an old man.

For her part, she liked the gray. It lent his features an almost august quality and … yes … provided a gorgeous contrast with his tanned skin and dark eyes.

Rowr.

"I can't go on like this," she told him. "I haven't been able to move on for years, neither have you. We need to … clear the air."

Jack heaved a sigh, the worry lines replacing the carefree creases that had shown only minutes earlier. "Carter; I … can't," he said.

"I'm not stupid, Jack; I know you care for me, that you're attracted to me." What the hell was he so afraid of? "But if that's your last word …"

"It is."

Sam opened the door. "Can't usually means won't. Goodbye, Jack. Have a nice life. Have a nice lonely life."

And with that, she pushed Lieutenant General Jack O'Neill out of her quarters, and Jack out of her life.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Categories: **__AU, UST, Drama, Angst_

_**Notes: **__Set a couple of months after the previous part. Written for this week's SJFic Yahoo Group challenge word "INDEPENDENCE"._

_**Spoilers: **__No specific references._

_**Warnings: **__None, really. I won't be held responsible for anyone's computer shorting out from the drooling over picturing Jack in the shower! ;-)_

* * *

Jack O'Neill awoke abruptly, the snapping open of his eyelids the only indication of his now-awake state. Too many years in Special Forces. 

He groaned, scrubbing the heels of his palms over his eyes, and looked over at his clock.

0300. Sweet.

The quiet night mocked him, taunted him and he groaned again, knowing that he wasn't going to sleep again tonight.

In fact, he'd rarely had a full night's sleep since his experience with the Lantean Replicators. Unless it was courtesy of a fifth of Scotch, and even he didn't count that as sleeping so much as passing out.

He got up and padded out of his bedroom into the shower, remembering just in time to whip off his shorts before the spray hit him. If he couldn't sleep, then the least he could do was go to work.

He leaned his head back against the tiles, appreciating the water as it battered down his weary body, bringing him back into the land of the living. Then he grabbed the soap and set to work.

* * *

**0700 hours:**

Lieutenant Michelle Evans opened the door to her office, sighing as she noticed the light shining from within her boss' inner sanctum. Another all-nighter? Damn that man – why couldn't he look after himself properly?

Michelle knew it wasn't appropriate, but she cared for General O'Neill greatly, liked him very much. Besides the sheer hotness of him, he was friendly, disarming and witty. But, God, such a workaholic. And she could swear he'd gotten thinner since his experience on Atlantis. He'd never been a big man anyway, but had had something of a desk tummy which he hated and tried in vain to exercise away.

She opened his door and sighed again. Jack O'Neill's silver head rested at an awkward angle, his long body sprawled in the seat and a file lay open in front of him.

"Sir?" She knew not to touch him – his age and the desk job had not dulled his reflexes one whit. "General!"

He mumbled something. A word. A name.

Charlie.

Oh God. His dead son. Michelle didn't know the circumstances of the boy's death, but knew the sorrow the older man hid beneath a goofy sense of humor and his non-existent tolerance for BS. "Sir! Wake up!"

Nothing. Michelle was getting worried now. "O'Neill! Front and center!" she barked, hoping that he wouldn't court-martial her ass.

It worked, though. The man sat up abruptly, deep brown eyes narrowed on her. "Lieutenant," he said abruptly.

"Good morning, sir," Michelle replied, knowing that neither of them would talk about her finding him asleep in his office. It wasn't the first time, it certainly wouldn't be the last. "I have your schedule for today, but maybe you'd like some coffee first."

He regarded her in almost bemusement, blinking sleepily (and adorably, in Michelle's biased opinion), before the mists cleared. "Thanks," he said.

* * *

**1330 hours:**

Jack finished reading the lo-o-o-o-o-o-o-ng report that had come from Nellis then removed his glasses with a yawn. He'd finally given in a couple years ago and gotten some reading glasses. He'd never been short-sighted but knew that age was beginning to take its toll. The skin thinned, the waistline widened. Time marched on, and it marched right on over him. He got into the small bathroom that adjoined his office and looked at himself in the mirror.

"God, O'Neill, you look like shit," he muttered. He turned on the faucet, splashing some cold water into his face. It didn't help. It wasn't so long ago that he'd been able to wake up with a bounce – when had he gotten so damn old?

The little part of his brain that wouldn't shut up when he was low piped up with "Since you shot Sam down."

Sam.

Carter.

His Sam.

Except she wasn't. He'd made sure of that when he'd all but run away from her declaration of love. He was such a chicken shit when it came to emotions – she deserved so much better than him.

"Shouldn't she decide what she deserves?" that part of his brain piped up.

"Shut up," he grumbled. Sure; Sam loved him, but she didn't know him. Not the real him. She didn't know the nightmares that plagued him, the bullshit he dealt with every day, the soul-deep weariness that had become ingrained. And in comparison with her, he was the village idiot. He wasn't dumb, by any means – you didn't make three stars by being stupid – but he simply didn't understand half of her astro-babble.

And the other half …? He understood her engineering babble, was in fact more qualified in engineering than she was, possessing two Masters Degrees – one in aeronautical engineering, the other in physics. But they didn't stack up against her doctorate. Besides, the dumb act had made her think harder, come up with brilliant off-the-wall solutions to save their asses. She'd become less obsessed with the pure science of astrophysics, learning to enjoy the practical applications of her genius, and becoming more well-rounded as a result.

His little genius … He smiled slightly when he recalled that she was to make a flying visit to DC next week to present a situation report. He'd only seen her once since she'd pushed him out of her quarters – literally – and it had been … less than comfortable. She'd been all business, only just cracking a polite smile at one of his lame jokes. It seemed they weren't even friends anymore.

_God, Jack; just get a grip, man!_ He splashed some more water into his face then patted it dry with a towel. While he yearned for Sam, he'd long decided that they couldn't work together. She was so much younger, much smarter, had her whole life ahead of her, full of a joie de vivre that even her most horrific experiences hadn't been able to entirely knock out of her.

While he … he was grouchy, over-the-hill and just so damned tired. He was weaker than her in so many ways. Not in the physical – despite his age, he'd maintained his Level 4 Advanced hand-to-hand and could still take nearly anyone. Except T. But T wasn't human, entirely. He didn't count.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. "General; you have a call on your cell. It's Cassie."

Cassie! Doc Fraiser's daughter was now a junior at Johns Hopkins, working towards her MD and hoping to specialize in virology. Seeing as how her entire planet had been destroyed by a virus, Jack could understand that. He opened the door and extended his hand for the cellphone the girl had bought him last Christmas. It had all the latest bells and whistles on, most of which Jack didn't even look at to tell the truth. "Thanks, Lieutenant." He brought the phone up to his ear. "Hey, Cass," he said.

"Is this Jack?"

That wasn't his unofficial niece. "Who wants to know?" Jack asked suspiciously.

"Oh, sorry. My name's Bill Archer, I'm a senior resident at Mercy Hospital in Baltimore. A young woman named Cassandra Fraiser was admitted today, and named Jack O'Neill as her next of kin."

Oh, God. "I'm one of her guardians," Jack said. "What happened?"

"I'd prefer to discuss this with you in person," Doctor Archer told him. "I think it would be best if you got here quickly."

That was never a good phrase. "I'll be there ASAP," Jack told him before moving out of the bathroom and launching into full-on crisis mode.

"Lieutenant! Cassie's been taken into hospital. Get me onto the next hop to Maryland, and I'll need a driver waiting for me. Contact General Landry and ask him to get a message to Colonel Carter on Atlantis that Cassie has been admitted to Mercy Hospital in Baltimore. Arrange for her to be flown to Baltimore as soon as she gets into the SGC. I'll need two rooms at the nearest hotel – use my credit card."

"Yes, sir," the Lieutenant replied. "I'm sorry about Cassie, sir," she added gently before setting to work.

"Thank you," Jack said gruffly before turning to his own desk and beginning to farm out his work. It was the only way to stop his thoughts running round in circles, screaming and biting him in the back.

It had been nearly four years since they'd lost Janet. Time had begun to heal that wound, although Jack hadn't been as close to Janet as Sam had. And now … now they could lose Cassie too.

Sam wasn't quite as close to Cassie as she'd once been – her distant posting making that unavoidable – but at the end of the day they were family. Jack closed his eyes, distressed at the idea that Sam might lose another member of her family.

Sam. He loved her, he admitted it. But it was too late now. He'd done his best to push her away for years, culminating in the final, almost brutal, shut-down just a couple months earlier. He was alone, and he deserved it.

But, God, he needed her. So much for the rough tough General O'Neill. Where Sam was concerned, he was as vulnerable as an adolescent in the throes of puppy love.

* * *

**Atlantis:**

"Colonel Carter; we're receiving a call from General Landry," the young Scots technician told her.

"Thank you, Brian," Sam said. She activated her headset and smiled at her former Commanding Officer. "General! It's good to hear from you."

"You too, Colonel, but I'm afraid I have some bad news," the older man told her. "It's about your niece, Cassie."

TBC …


	4. Chapter 4

_It's a minor miracle - I've actually updated this thing! RL got in the way, I started a new job, and spring has sprung on this side of the pond, making me want to go to the beach with the dogs rather than work on a story that I stopped enjoying a long time ago. I will finish this story off, because I don't like leaving things undone, and will leave angsty-type things to better writers in future. Anyhoo! On with Part 4 of 'Strangers'._

* * *

Jack flipped anxiously through an old magazine as he waited, not even registering the 'Top 10 Ways to Gain Younger Firmer Breasts'. 

He'd gotten to Baltimore less than a day earlier, but it felt like an eternity. No-one was telling him anything and the doctors here were even less impressed by his three-star status than the medical staff at the Academy Hospital.

God … he hated this. The helplessness, the not knowing. Waiting to see if a young one he loved was going to live or die. It just hit too close to the bone.

He vaguely registered the door opening but didn't look up from his systematic shredding of the magazine.

"Jack?"

He looked up at that – straight into Samantha Carter's big blue eyes. "Hey," he offered awkwardly, his foolish old heart pounding at the sight of her. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her brow was furrowed, and her bottom lip was swollen where her teeth worried at it. Yet she looked so beautiful to him.

Sam sat down next to him and rested her head on his shoulder. "Thank you for getting word to me. But … won't you get into trouble?" she said.

Jack shrugged the unoccupied shoulder. He probably would have to deal with the budget shrubs back at the Pentagon at some point, but right now he didn't care. At least Lieutenant Evans had kept a cool head and refused to order a hop to Baltimore. It was far quicker to simply drive the short journey. "You're her family," he said simply. "What else would I do?"

Sam sat up and brushed a kiss over his cheek, appearing to have forgotten how badly he'd hurt her weeks ago. "Thank you," she said quietly.

Jack shifted uncomfortably, fighting with himself. He wanted to put his arms around her, take strength from her, but he'd forfeited any right to do that when he'd shot her down so brutally.

Sam solved his dilemma for him by picking up another ancient magazine and pretending to flip through it.

And the waiting continued.

* * *

God … this was just about killing her. Cassie was the closest thing Sam had ever had to a daughter. Would in all likelihood be her only chance at parenthood. She wasn't getting any younger and the one man she would want to be the father didn't care about her in that way. 

He cared about her – she knew that much. He was very attracted to her – she recognized that also. But liking and physical attraction didn't necessarily mean that love was involved.

She loved Jack – despite how he'd hurt her – but had to accept the fact that he didn't feel the same way. And, unfortunately, friendship was no longer an option. Perhaps if she hadn't told him how she felt, hadn't decided to risk it all …

She shook her head angrily when the magazine blurred in front of her eyes. She was done crying over Jack O'Neill.

Her strong thoughts were interrupted when the door opened and a young man in a white coat approached them. "Mister O'Neill, Miss Carter, I presume?" he said.

"General and Colonel," Jack said, standing up and looking down at the younger man. "How's Cassie?"

The young doctor didn't appear fazed by the 'General' demeanor. "It was touch and go for a short time," he said, "but all things being normal, she'll make a full recovery."

"What happened?" Sam asked, willing her limbs to stop shaking.

"She was involved in a drag-racing incident," the doctor told them. "She lost control of the car and it went over an embankment."

"Oh, God …," Sam gasped, grabbing hold of Jack's arm. Cassie had done some pretty stupid things after losing Janet – drinking too much, sleeping around, but this … this … She could so easily have died.

Jack's warm arm slipped around her shoulders, imparting some of his wonderful strength to her. "May we see her?" he asked quietly, only his perfect diction and grammar betraying his anxiety.

"You can, but she'll be out for a while yet," the doctor said. "She's pretty banged up, though – it may be quite a shock."

"I understand," Jack said. "Sam?"

"I still want to see her," Sam agreed.

Much to her surprise, Jack's arm remained around her shoulders as they followed the young doctor into the critical care unit. She wanted to slip her own arm around his waist, but … she didn't trust him not to hurt her again.

They went over to Cassie's bed and Sam swayed dizzily, her mind flashing back against her will to when Daniel had ascended. He'd been covered in bandages, had been so weak and frail … "Cassie," she whispered as the world went gray around her.

* * *

Jack caught Sam as she crumpled, hugging her slender form to him. "Carter?" he barked, slipping involuntarily into his old CO mode. 

She lifted heavy eyelids and stared at him. "Sir …," she murmured hazily.

"Sit down," Jack said, using a long leg to hook a chair and drag it forward. Sam dropped into the seat and grabbed one of Cassie's hands – the one not hooked up to an IV.

Jack grabbed another chair and sat down next to Sam, watching her suck her bottom lip back between her teeth. He could see she was a hair away from losing it. "C'mere," he offered gently, sliding his arm back around her shoulder.

Would she …?

Without abandoning Cassie's hand, Sam snuggled into Jack's embrace – much like she had when Jacob had been dying. God, he missed that ornery old SOB.

After a couple minutes, Sam sat back up. "I'm just going to the ladies," she said. "Can I get you anything while I'm out?"

"Nah; I'm okay," Jack said, waving a hand dismissively at her. He gave a small groan for his back. "Nothing ten years less and ten pounds less couldn't cure." Damn desk job making him soft.

Sam gave him a smile and giggled slightly. "You're still in pretty good shape," she told him. "I don't think we'll be sending you off to fat camp any time soon."

Jack returned the smile, enjoying the fact that he was still able to make her giggle, and watched as she headed out of the ward before turning his attention back to his unofficial niece.

As he watched the gentle rise and fall of Cassie's chest, the medical paraphernalia monitoring her vitals, he thought about Sam's dad.

Jack and Jacob Carter had always had an … interesting relationship. Sometimes combative, sometimes friendly – and God knows, the man knew how to yank Jack's chain – but they'd always respected each other. He closed his eyes, remembering what Jacob had said to him shortly before he died.

**[Flashback**

"Look after her, will you, Jack? She's gonna need you."

"She has Pete," Jack had offered, startled.

Jacob snorted. "Don't play dumb with me Jack – you can't pull it off." He sighed slightly. "Pete seems a nice enough guy – even if he does have the tact of a bulldozer – but he's second best."

He sat up suddenly. "You wouldn't have been my first choice as a son-in-law. Hell, ten years ago, someone like you wouldn't even have made the list!" He gripped Jack's hand with his waning strength. "You're a lot older, you're her CO and you were Special Forces …"

"Yep." Jack knew what too many years of Black Ops could do to a man. Had seen Captain Hansen go right over the edge believing he was a god. "So … what changed?"

"You complete each other," Jacob said, letting go of Jack. "Even Selmak's never seen such symbiosis outside of blending."

Jack fidgeted, not sure that he believed in the whole 'soul-mates' hooey. Sure, he cared about Carter a lot, thought her beautiful, smart, funny. But there were things about her that really pissed him off too – and doubtless there were things about him that pissed her off. "Who knew the old … girl was so romantic?" Out of respect, he just managed not to say 'snake'.

Jacob managed a weak grin. "Try having her in your head for years!"

Thanks, but no thanks. Jack had done the blending thing twice now and neither time had led to good things. Ironically, his blending with a Goa'uld had been less traumatic than the one with Kanan.

"What d'you want from me, Jacob?"

"Pull your head out of your ass before you really do lose her, Jack," Jacob said seriously.

"Don't beat around the bush there – tell me what you really think."

Jacob growled. "I'm dying, Jack; I don't have time to pussyfoot around you and my stubborn daughter anymore. If the Air Force is the only thing truly keeping you two apart, there are ways …"

This was starting to sound eerily familiar to Jack.

**[End flashback**

"Jack?"


	5. Chapter 5

A slim hand resting on his brought Jack out of his reverie, and he looked down to see Cassie staring up at him, tears in her eyes. "Hey, kid," he said quietly.

"Where's Mom?" A tear slipped down one thin cheek. "I want my mom." Her eyes closed and she heaved a deep sigh.

"Cassie; stay with me, dammit!" Jack barked, all his fear, love and anxiety expressing themselves in the usual Jack O'Neill fashion - as anger.

"General O'Neill; don't shout at my patient, please," a nurse said sternly, coming over to adjust Cassie's IV. "I know you're upset and anxious, but Cassie is not likely to be coherent any time soon."

"Yeah," Jack acknowledged roughly. "Sorry."

Sam walked back in at that point. "She's awake?" she breathed hopefully.

"Only for a bit," Jack said reluctantly. "We'll have to wait a while longer."

"God." Sam collapsed into the chair she'd vacated earlier, her arms coming upward to hug herself. "I hate this."

"Yeah," Jack agreed. "It doesn't get any easier."

Sam regarded him silently then slipped her arm around his waist, giving it a squeeze. "I guess not," she replied.

"Car ... Sam." Jack reveled briefly in the feel of her hand on him then took the bull by the horns. "I'm really sorry about ... before. You know me - I'm crap with discussing my emotions."

He felt Sam flinch against him before she removed her warm hand from where it had rested near his hip. "Oh, I think you made your feelings quite clear," she replied quietly. "I'd rather not discuss it. And now's not the time anyway."

"Yeah," Jack said awkwardly, mourning the loss of her hand and cursing himself for his severe cowardice. He was a complete emotional retard - just as Sara had accused him years earlier when she'd filed for divorce.

What the hell was wrong with him? Three little words. Yet they had the potential to change everything. Sam felt it, said it. He felt it in return, but couldn't say it.

Stupid old fool.

"It's like you don't want to be happy," that little annoying voice taunted him. "You're so determined to be miserable you'll drag Sam along with you."

Funny how much his inner voice was starting to sound like Daniel.

* * *

Sam forced her heart to harden against the unexpected vulnerability in Jack's brown eyes. He couldn't love - or wouldn't love - and she deserved more than the odd heated glance, the silly flirtation. Flirting was fun - and Jack was very good at it - but they weren't teenagers for crying out loud! 

He was one of the best friends she'd ever had. He was sharp-witted, caring, funny, tender, brave (in most things). And, yes, he was also extremely sexy. Not that she was inclined to put him on any kind of pedestal. He was flippant, arrogant, sarcastic, even boorish on occasion. But she accepted the bad with the good - that was love.

He had the power to destroy her - albeit unknowingly. She'd made herself very vulnerable to him all those weeks ago - and he'd crushed her. Yet a large part of her sorrow was for him. He needed love and tenderness so much - yet he held himself back from it.

She was willing to bet that he'd been very affectionate when he was younger. You didn't get so good at hugging if you'd always been emotionally closed-off. And the timing in his rare hugs was always perfect. He was a lot more sensitive than she was giving him credit for.

He was a bundle of contradictions wrapped up in a very attractive 6'2" package.

God help her. She still loved him. Maybe she'd never stop, but she would go on with her life. She would be happy.

That she promised to herself.

* * *

Jack returned his gaze to Cassie's sleeping features. Cassie had become such a big part of his life in the last couple years - her frequent visits to DC enlivening his often lonely world. She was exuberant and outgoing ... but was unfortunately something of a magnet for the local gomers. Some of them were intimidated by him and kept a respectful distance - the others Cassie was more than capable of dealing with on her own. 

She'd spent a week with him recently just before his last visit to Atlantis - he cringed once more at the memory of Sam's face - and he'd been mildly appalled to learn that she'd never been to Disneyland.

"We have a rule here on Earth," he'd proclaimed grandly.

"Another one?" Cassie had grinned at him, no doubt recalling the dog he'd brought for her when she'd first arrived. Rags had died last year and had been devoted to Cassie - and Jack by extension.

"Yeah. Another one." Jack was unfazed by the interruption. "Pack your bag again, brat - we're going to Disneyland."

So Jack had spent much of the next two days at the House of Mouse standing in queues or sitting with his knees tucked up to his chin, his back screaming _I hate you, O'Neill!_ all the while.

He smiled at the memory of Cassie's girlish delight when she got her photo taken with Eeyore. It had so been worth the aches and pains.

After Janet had died, he'd looked into adopting Cassie - she'd still been a minor at the time - but the authorities would never have looked at a single parent who was over 50 and a frontline military officer. He'd had to settle for being an unofficial uncle.

Cassie had started calling him that more as they'd gotten closer - mainly to stop the disapproving mutters that followed them when they went out together. But she'd once confessed that she actually thought of him more like the dad she'd lost when Nirrti had wiped out the population of Hanka all those years ago.

A tear pricked one of his eyes as he recalled the shy, earnest, hopeful look on Cassie's face when she'd told him that. "Is that ... okay?" she'd asked uncertainly.

He'd gathered the young woman into a rough hug, unable once again to express verbally what he was feeling.

Jack blinked away the tear before it could escape his eye and cleared his throat. "I'm gonna ... ah ... hit the head," he told Sam, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the men's room. "Can I bring you anything?"

"Coffee, please," Sam said.

"Still cream and one, right?"

Sam blinked, her eyes startlingly large in her pale face. "Uh ... yeah."

"Okay." Jack got to his feet and squeezed Cassie's hand gently. "Back soon, kid."

He stepped out into the corridor and flipped out his cellphone, switching it on. He dialed his office in DC.

* * *

Lieutenant Michelle Evans picked up the phone once more after updating her boss and gave her usual crisp greeting. But half her mind was still occupied by her worry for her superior officer. Michelle knew how close he'd gotten to his unofficial niece - her photo, along with one of Charlie and the old SG-1, were the only things that relieved the somewhat utilitarian feel of the General's office. 

She'd already been disciplined by the IOA weenies for her part in Colonel Carter's retrieval and she cursed her own bad judgment. She hadn't obeyed _the General_'s order to open comms with Atlantis - she'd wanted to help the man she loved. Where the hell had her good sense gone?

Michelle had long understand and accepted the necessity of the regulations governing fraternization. And in the years since her commissioning, it had never been an issue. Then along came General O'Neill and she'd found herself possessed by a powerful physical attraction. The liking and respect had come later. As for the love ...? Michelle had no idea when that had happened.

She took the message she'd written and laid it in General O'Neill's in tray - along with her request for immediate transfer, citing personal reasons.

She just had to hope he accepted it and didn't ask too many questions. The General was extremely stubborn and he did not like change. But she was determined to move on - before she got into further trouble and dragged him with her.


	6. Chapter 6

**That evening:**

Sam stood up reluctantly and bent over Cassie's still-sleeping form to bestow a kiss on the younger woman's cheek. "We'll be back tomorrow, Cass," she murmured. She straightened up with a small groan for her back – those plastic hospital-issue chairs were not conducive to sitting for long periods – and looked at Jack uncertainly.

He scrubbed a hand through his hair, his military fade no longer allowing his hair to stick out stupidly – much to her regret – and smiled slightly at her. "We've got a couple rooms at the Devereux Hotel," he said.

"Thank you," Sam replied, falling into step beside him as they made their way out of the ICU and into the corridor. She blinked and shook her head, hoping to dispel the vague dizziness, then realized she hadn't eaten yet that day. Neither had Jack if his own unsteady gait and slight pallor were anything to go by.

"Hungry?" the man asked now, sending another one of those brief smiles her way.

"A little," Sam admitted, wondering if omniscience came with the third star. Mind you, he'd always been a bit spooky that way. "But I'm not up to going out."

"Me either," Jack told her. They stepped out into the cool evening air and Sam shivered, realizing that she'd forgotten to bring a coat along with her. She'd begun to take the regulated temperatures on Atlantis for granted, plus she'd never been a big fan of the cold, being a little too thin much of the time.

Before she could shiver again, Jack wrapped an arm around her, drawing her into his warm body, and began trying to flag down a cab. "Nuts," he muttered after the tenth one zipped past him.

"Let's … keep walking," Sam suggested, her heart enjoying Jack's closeness a lot more than her head. "It's a bit too cold to just stand around."

"Yeah," Jack agreed, not seeming inclined to let go of her just yet. Maybe he truly did care for her the way she cared for him?

No. She stopped that train of thought abruptly. Jack O'Neill was a very caring man, but she doubted his capacity for romantic love. Maybe it was the Black Ops, Ba'al or the thousand and one other things he'd endured, but they'd made him close himself off.

The most she and Jack could ever have was friendship, and that was no longer enough for her.

"Sam," he said … and something in his tone suggested that he'd been trying to catch her attention for some time.

"Yeah," she replied.

He dipped his head and pressed a sweet soft kiss to her lips, suckling gently on her bottom lip. Then he straightened up. "Just thought … you should know," he continued.

* * *

Jack moved his mouth reluctantly away from Sam's sweet one and stroked her now flushed cheek with his worn palm. He took a deep breath, calling on his waning courage to get the words out. "I … ah … I love you, Sam," he rushed out. Her eyes widened and Jack shook his head. "I know. I hurt you and it's too late for me now, but I didn't want you thinking I didn't … feel the same way."

Sam's eyes looked huge in the evening light as she chewed on her bottom lip, evidently mulling over his confession. "I … uhh … don't know what to say."

"Well, don't say anything," Jack said. "I'm not expecting anything, but you deserved the truth."

"Thank you," Sam said softly.

A slim hand linked with his and squeezed.

* * *

Silence fell between them – a not uncomfortable one – and Sam allowed herself to dwell on Jack's nervous but sweet confession. She knew him well enough to believe that he truly didn't expect anything. Part of her wanted to fling herself into his arms … the small vindictive part of her thought he didn't deserve that.

Sam really didn't like that part of herself, but it was hard to fight it.

Wishing she could shut down her brain just once in her life, she allowed herself to dwell on how nice her hand felt in Jack's. Her hands were not small by any means – being well in proportion with her slim 5'9 frame – but her hand felt tiny and frail linked with his much larger one. One of those oddly-curved thumbs that had always fascinated her stroked the back of her hand gently – almost rhythmically.

Another cab zipped past and Jack sighed. "Where's T when you need him, huh?" he asked mournfully.

Sam giggled, recalling how Teal'c had hailed the cab the night they went to McGinty's and his expedient method of stopping the van during their trip to 1969. He'd stepped in its path.

"And no giggling, Colonel!" Jack added.

Sam just giggled again, more than a little punchy from lack of sleep and hunger.

"Fer cryin' out loud," Jack grumbled. He made a great show of sighing dramatically in relief when a cab finally pulled up beside them. "Devereux Hotel, please," he told the driver before ushering Sam into the back seat.

* * *

Sam yawned widely as the elevator doors opened, depositing she and Jack on her floor. It was a lovely old-fashioned hotel just a short cab ride from the hospital, set on a quiet back street. She opened the door to her own room, then smiled. "It's perfect," she said, taking in the soothing decor, the crisp bed linen, the … calla lilies. Sam was by now exhausted but was too wired to sleep, having subsisted on hospital coffee all day.

"Okay," Jack said.

"Who told them I liked calla lilies?" Sam asked. Jack's room had featured the standard hotel arrangement. "Did you …?"

"I didn't know," Jack said with a shrug.

That made sense. They'd known each other for many years, but the barriers that had existed between them hadn't allowed them to learn the little things about each other. "Then how?"

Jack gave her a small smirk. "Lieutenant Evans," he said. "She arranged the bookings. The kid's some sort of damn psychic."

Sam yawned, wondering how the tough-as-nails 30 year old would react to being described as a kid, then went over to the room service menu. She wasn't particularly hungry, but knew that she had to eat. "Will you … eat with me?" she asked very shyly for her. "I'd like your company."

"Of course," Jack replied.

Restless as always, he prowled around the comfortable room, fiddling with the drapes, the flowers, the bedspread till Sam was ready to scream. His usually endearing and/or amusing fidgeting was really getting on her nerves. "God, can you not be still for even two minutes?" she burst out, ignoring how motionless he could be on ops and how quietly he'd sat in that plastic chair all day.

Which had to have been murder on his back and knees, she realized with a pang of guilt. Her own back was screaming at her – and she was younger than him and without his history of injuries. His sojourn at Ba'al's fortress years ago had healed his ACL, but it had flared up again in recent years, thanks to a congenitally weak tendon.

Jack dropped his hands guiltily from the vase and shoved them into his pockets, the 'busted' expression on his face reminding her of all the times he used to come and play in her lab. "Sorry," he said.

Sam sighed. "Me too. It's been a long day."

"Yeah." Jack sat down then picked up the menu and perused it.

And now his unoccupied fingers were drumming a tattoo.

For crying out loud!

* * *

Jack looked through the menu, deciding on a simple omelet with a side of bacon.

Then he heard what sounded like a growl coming from the beautiful woman sitting near him. Her smaller hand shot out and rested over his unoccupied one. Much as he might think this was nice, she was wearing what he called the 'Colonel Carter Glare of Doom'. "Sam?"

"You're drumming."

Jack sighed, now a little irritated. "I'm just … I'm gonna go," he said. "I'm obviously not the right sort of company."

* * *

"Uh." Sam growled again but didn't relinquish his hand. "Just because you're getting on my nerves right now, it doesn't mean I don't want to be with you." He was a grown man who'd been married for fifteen years – much of that very happily. How did he not know this stuff? Was he that insecure? It was … actually quite cute.

She took the menu out of his other hand then rested her hand on his cheek. "It's … not too late," she told him.

"Huh?" Oh yes, he was eloquent.

"It's not too late," Sam repeated, leaning in to kiss him. He remained motionless for several beats then Alpha-Jack came fore. The sweet gentle kiss became hard and hungry, tongues tangling, mouths bruising, hands grasping.

Quite how one of her hands ended up down his pants clutching at a firm round ass cheek, she had no idea. But she didn't mind at all.

And neither did Jack if the breathless growl he uttered was any indication.


	7. Chapter 7

**The next morning:**

Sam was hot. Not just warm, but hot. And that was weird for her as she was pretty susceptible to the cold.

And both of her feet had gone to sleep too.

She opened an eye and discovered the cause of both. Lieutenant General Jack O'Neill was entwined with her, arms around her midsection, face smushed into the back of her neck and long legs tangled with hers.

Yeah. She'd been turned into a human-sized teddy bear.

Neither of them had been in the mood last night for sex and had been content with a rather heavy make-out session. Soft lips, scratchy chin, work-roughened hands all working together for one bird-Colonel's pleasure. _Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm._

She made to sit up, but Jack grumbled inarticulately and tightened his hold on her.

Much as she was enjoying the contact, her bladder was sending urgent signals to her brain. "Jack?"

"Mmmmm." In response to her move he entwined a bony foot around one of her ankles.

"Jack; I need to pee." Good grief; how many limbs could one man have?

"Mmmm," he grumbled once more. but quit his octopus impersonation.

Sam scrambled out of the bed and made a dash for the bathroom, frowning slightly when she heard him chuckle.

_Memo to me; kick his fine ass later._

* * *

In Sam's absence, Jack grabbed the pillow on which she'd been sleeping, seeing as she'd heartlessly deprived him of her neck, and snuggled into it. He was warm, sleepy and ... happy.

He tested the word quietly, realizing that he hadn't been genuinely happy in a long time. He'd been fulfilled, contented, but happy?

Nah.

If it wasn't for Cassie being so ill and his twice-damned age creeping up on him, he would've said that his life was pretty close to perfect right at this time. Sam still loved him, was still hot for him - as evidenced by her cheeky groping of his ass - and they finally had a chance to make things work.

His cell rang, interrupting his pleasant thoughts, and he scowled then made a grab for it. He fumbled for several seconds then barked, "O'Neill; speak to me."

"General; this is Doctor Archer at Mercy Hospital. Cassie has woken up and is asking for you and Colonel Carter."

"We'll be there ASAP." Jack got out of bed and barged into the bathroom. To a very girly squeal. "Cassie's awake," he told the source of the squeal, a small part of his brain registering that she was topless - presumably in preparation for a shower.

Sam grabbed a towel and held it protectively to her chest - he wasn't going to look, he wasn't! "Oh, that's great!" she said, face splitting into that gigawatt grin he so loved but hadn't seen for such a long time.

"Ain't it?" He returned the killer beam then waved his hand vaguely. "Anyhow ... you do your thing then I'll jump in after you and we'll go see her."

_Or we could share_, the southern part of his anatomy suggested helpfully.

What? She was a hot woman and he was a (relatively) normal guy. And normal guys thought stuff like that when confronted by half-naked leggy blondes.

"Umm ... Jack?"

Sam's face, ears and chest were pink and he wondered if the blush went further south. "Yeah," he replied, eyes flickering down her long slim arms. She gestured to the shower and he coughed, a little sorry for the adolescent turn of his thoughts. But only a little. "Ah. Right."

And he stepped out, closing the bathroom door firmly between him and temptation.

* * *

They got out of the cab, and Jack paid the fare before taking Sam's hand in his in a gesture that felt surprisingly right and natural, considering the newness of their romantic relationship. Shouldn't it have been more awkward?

_You're thinking too much again_, she scolded herself, running her thumb over the back of his large palm. Nice hands. Skilled hands.

Sam cut off that particular train of thought before the blush could form, glad that the owner of said skilled hands was currently occupied in jabbing repeatedly at the elevator button. She sighed slightly. How could such an impatient energetic man have been so damn good at Special Ops - a position often requiring a lot of silent sit-and-wait? He was such a bundle of contradictions.

They got into the elevator and made their way upward in a comfortable silence, each absorbed in their thoughts. Jack ushered her out of the elevator with a light hand to the small of her back then grabbed hold of her hand once more as they made their way into the ICU.

He took a deep shaky breath and Sam looked at him in silent query. "I'm ... okay," he said. "It just ... brings back memories."

Uncaring of the fact that they were in a public place, Sam removed her hand from his then slipped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. There was nothing she could say that would ever make him feel better about Charlie - she could only comfort him when the memories threatened to overwhelm him.

He ducked his head into her neck and took another heavy breath. Then he planted a small kiss on her neck before straightening back up. "Thanks," he murmured.

"You're welcome," she replied.

They stepped into the ICU and headed over to Cassie's bed. "Hey, brat," Jack said.

"Hi, Uncle Jack," the younger woman croaked. "Sam! How'd you get here from ... your assignment?"

Obviously Cassie knew about the Stargate, but she was not privy to any of the ongoing missions and therefore did not know about the Atlantis base that was now more than halfway through its fourth year of operations.

Uncle Jack? When had he and Cassie gotten that close? How much had she missed on her inter-galactic jaunt? "Uh ... Jack sent for me," she said, sitting down next to the young woman. "You're looking better."

Cassie laughed then coughed. "I look like death on a triscuit," she retorted then addressed the man fiddling with the corner of her bedspread. "Uncle Jack; sit down. You're getting all _fartusht_."

"Uh, don't bring the Yiddish, Cassie - you're from ... Toronto, for cryin' out loud," Jack grumbled, easing his long body into one of the chairs nonetheless.

"Kvetch, kvetch, kvetch," Cassie got out with a small grin.

Sam giggled at the interaction. Leave it to Jack to argue with someone who was lying in a hospital bed!

Cassie's eyes had closed after her brief admonishment but she opened them again. "I'm sorry, you guys," she whispered.

"Why'd you do it, Cass?" Sam murmured, capturing the young woman's free hand.

A tear slid down Cassie's cheek. "I just ... I wanted to feel alive," she choked. "Ever since Mom ... I've just felt ... adrift."

Sam had only been a few years younger than Cassie when she had lost her own mom - she could identify readily with the girl's pain and bewilderment. She'd sublimated her grief with her studies, but could so easily have taken Cassie's destructive path.

"Cass; you could've talked to me," Jack said. "I'm not exactly the poster boy for emotional maturity, but I love you, kid. I would've been there in a flash."

"I didn't want to worry you," Cassie whispered. "You were all so busy with work ...".

"We would've made time - can you not understand that?" Sam asked sadly, wondering just when she and the girl she loved had drifted so far apart.

Cassie gave a deep sob then yawned. "I'm sorry ...," she mumbled, her eyelids fluttering closed once more. "Love you guys ..."

The attending physician came over. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but Cassandra really can't cope with any additional stress right now," he said. "You need to give her time."

Sam could see Jack squaring his shoulders for a fight and put her hand on his arm. "We're sorry," she said. "It's hard for all of us."

The solemn young doctor led them to a small side rom. "I understand that, but Cassie is going to need all the help she can get." He smiled sadly. "We've tried, but she needs her family."

"You know Cassie?" Jack blurted out.

"We share some classes - she's still an undergrad but her work on viral epidemiology ... she puts me to shame." He sighed. "I'm not treating Cassie at all - it wouldn't be ethical. I was passing through and decided to visit." He offered his hand to Sam then Jack. "I'm Michael Williams, by the way."

Jack looked the younger man up and down then nodded his head slightly. "And how long have you been in love with my niece?"

Sam shook her head. That was Jack for you. No BS ... just came right out with it.

Michael went red. "What?" he got out. "I ... uh ..."

"It's okay," Sam jumped in quickly. "We won't tell her - that should come from you."

Michael's shoulders sagged. "Thank you," he murmured. "It's the last thing she needs right now."

"Agreed," Sam murmured and Jack nodded his head. Cassie was far too fragile right now.

"I'll be the judge of that," Cassie uttered hoarsely.

Michael reddened again. "You ... you heard."

"Yeah." Cassie held out her free hand and Michael went over. "I think I ... love you too," she said, "but I need time. Time to get my head on straight."

Michael clasped her hand. "I'll wait."

Suddenly feeling very much the fifth wheel, Sam nudged Jack. "Uh, Cass? We'll just ... be outside," she said.

"Thanks, guys," Cassie murmured, her tired eyes not leaving Michael's face.

Once outside, Sam sank silently onto one of the hard bucket chairs, head spinning from all the recent revelations. "Whoa," she uttered.

"Yeah." Jack sat down next to her and slipped an arm around her shoulders. "C'mere."

Sam curled willingly into his warm embrace and snuggled her face into his neck. Words had rarely been necessary between she and Jack and, not for the first time, she was grateful for that.


End file.
